


name tags

by dorktobios



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Keith is an art student, M/M, Pining, This is so sappy, broganes, he's a nerd, keith and shiro are brothers, lance works at the local coffeeshop!!, somewhat mutual pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 05:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11178240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorktobios/pseuds/dorktobios
Summary: Keith is an art student who, like many others, is struggling to find his place in the world.Until he meets the prettiest boy who’s got oceans for eyes at the local coffeeshop down the street. That’s when his life gets turned upside down in a matter of seconds.The worst thing? He doesn’t even know the boy’s name.





	name tags

Keith loved art. Everything about it, but drawing in particular. He had always been fascinated by it, how the power of creating something so beautiful with merely just a pencil, could lie in his hands. Ever since he was little, he had a habit of doodling random things on his skin like the steaming cup of coffee his dad drank in the morning before work, or flowers and plants he saw on his way to school. His mother certainly wasn’t pleased when he would arrive back home with sketchy drawings all over his arms.

“Keith,” she had said in an exasperated tone, “why do you keep drawing on your arm?”

He blinked. “Because I have no paper.”

She sighed once again at her son’s antics, giving into his pleading eyes. “Then I’ll buy you a sketchbook.”

Needless to say, Keith was secretly overjoyed at the prospect of having some actual paper to draw on. And when she finally bought it for him, he swore he brought it everywhere with him, as if it was his best friend. The kids at school looked at him weird, dubbing him as that boy who couldn’t stop drawing.

And frankly, it was true.

* * *

 

There’re two things you need to know about Keith.

1\. He’s currently majoring in art in university (no surprise there).

2\. He’s also currently freezing his ass off.

He’s still at campus, having just finished one of his boring as hell lectures, surrounded in a sea of students rushing to get home. Tiny snowflakes dance in the wind, creating a somewhat hazy but misty atmosphere. A light layer of snow has already formed on the ground and he stares at it irritably, suddenly wishing he had fire-bending powers.

Pulling his jacket tighter around his almost-frozen body, he huffs out a breath of frustration which immediately swirls into a tiny cloud of mist. His black jeans and high cuts aren’t doing much justice, evident as the cold keeps ruthlessly attacking him. He isn’t the world’s biggest fan of cold weather.

It’s at this time that he mentally curses himself for not renting out one of the dorm rooms at campus. The sole reason being: he dreaded interacting and socialising with others he would be paired with in the room. He’s seen enough movies to know how freaking crazy college kids could get. Call him childish and immature, but he’s not a people’s person, not now and not ever. Since he was a child he thought of socialising as a waste of time and energy, preferring to stick with his sketchbook and pen, and he’s stuck by that mindset all throughout his 19 years of living.

University is alright, time-consuming and utterly mentally exhausting but still somewhat okay, but he feels a hole in his heart as if something was lacking, as if he was missing that final puzzle piece. Keith’s mind betrays him as a fleeting thought occurs to him. He needs something - actually no, _someone._

Keith scoffs to himself.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have any friends. He has one. That friend being Pidge. He’s made “friends” with people at his previous schools, but none of them were true to him. They were more like… some people to hang out with, not really people he could spill his secrets to. Losing touch with all of them whenever he changed schools really proved the value of their “friendship”.

He actually met Pidge during his very first astrophysics elective lecture (just because he was majoring in art didn’t mean he lost his love for space), where he had shown up late - he overslept, alright - and the only available seat (if you didn’t count the seats next to the Asshole Gang or the one next to the Party Goers. Keith was not in the mood to take anyone else’s BS) was next to her. He didn’t mind that much, because he generally thought she seemed to be a nice person.

A Nice Person, Indeed. It was kind of inevitable to not talk to her, considering they sat next to each other. Pidge struck up their first conversation and they kind of just...went from there. Keith remembered thinking his older brother Shiro would be _so proud_ of him, finally having a “new start” with life in college, or something along those lines.

Keith soon came to learn that Pidge was not a Nice Person, but in fact, the reincarnate of the devil himself. She teased him to no end, injecting a few witty remarks whenever she had the chance, and could be a nasty kid when she was under stress or working on a project. Keith took a liking to her, though.

Merely the thought of walking to the train station to travel back to his shared apartment with his brother is enough to get a prolonged groan out of him. He could barely take a step without his teeth clattering, how the hell is he supposed to survive a freaking trek to the train station?

He forces himself to inhale a deep breath, knowing that if he hesitates any longer, he’ll be here for the rest of the goddamn day. The idea of _actually_ freezing his ass off doesn’t seem too appealing, so he thinks _screw it_ , and embarks on his treacherous adventure.

 

* * *

 

 

That’s when he spots it. His safe haven.

A nice looking and peaceful cafe, with the bolded words ‘ **Defenders of Coffee** ’ plastered at the front, not looking very occupied with customers. Although Keith does raise an eyebrow at the unusual name. It’s creative though, he’ll give them that.

He pushes the glass door open, the little chime at the top tinkering, and he’s met with the delightful smell of coffee and pastries wafting through the air which leaves his stomach growling almost instantly.He can appreciate the overall colour scheme of the cafe, the primary colours being green and brown, reminding him of the forest. The animated chatter and the clinking of ceramic cups against one another somehow make him feel safe and protected from the literal blizzard outside.

Most of the people are students who line the table against the huge glass window, some typing away on their laptops, some completely passed out on their open textbooks, some merely enjoying the scenery of the outside. Others are business people who were probably discussing some important information over cups of coffee, and there's even a mother and her son who are engaged in an exciting conversation. Overall, the sight makes Keith feel at home, for some reason, and he knows deep down that this wouldn’t be the last time he would be here.

As he waits in line (well, there’s only one person in front of him but whatever), his eyes scan over the proudly displayed menu at the top, before the person in front him scurries off to the collection point.

“What can I get ya’ this fine day?”

And when Keith looks up, he can literally feel the air leave his lungs.

The first thing he notices about barista serving him is that his eyes are the most charming shade of blue. They remind Keith of the ocean, swirls of water, reeling Keith in so hard he can’t bear to tear his eyes away. The next thing he notices is that the boy has warm golden skin to match his smile, mouth curved up into a grin, eyes crinkling. His hair is neat but at the same time a little messy, leaving Keith with the sudden urge to run his fingers through them.

He’s the prettiest boy Keith has ever seen.

“Uh, one hot chocolate.” _Oh my god, oh my god, ohmygod—_

The boy hums, “Size?”

“M-medium,” Keith mentally facepalms himself for being this awkward.

“Name?”

“...Keith.”

The boy scribbles his name on the plastic cap with the marker and flashes him another grin.

Keith’s certain his face is flushed red, and the thing is, he knows it isn’t from the cold anymore. He makes his way to the collection point and doesn’t have to wait very long before his name is being called.

“One hot chocolate for Keith?”

When Keith reaches out to collect it, he notes that it’s a different person this time. He’s got dark brown hair, so dark it could’ve been mistaken for black, skin slightly darker than Pretty Boy and a warm smile on his face.

Keith’s lips curve upwards into the slightest trace of a smile, something he doesn’t do often. Huh, this place makes him feel a whole lot of new emotions. “Thanks,” his eyes trail down to the name tag, “..Hunk.”

Just as he exits, he hears Pretty Boy say:

“See you again, mullet!”

 _It’s not a mullet_ , he thinks angrily. Keith has half a mind to turn down and stomp back into the shop, but then he realises there’s no bite to the insult. It’s more endearing, in a way.

The evening sky is beautiful (although not as beautiful as that boy who is clouding his thoughts), colours subdued in the fading light, and Keith’s grip around the paper cup tightens. He feels warmth radiating off of him; funnily enough, the cold doesn’t seem so bad anymore. His boots scuffle along the pavement, cars whizz past him, but Keith’s only got one thing (person) on his mind.

And, _and—_

His heart won’t stop doing somersaults.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, when Keith rests his head on his table, barely paying any attention to what his math professor is saying, his mind drifts to his Happy Place, or more specifically, the cozy coffee shop yesterday.

And he realises something.

Why did Hunk have a name tag and Pretty Boy didn’t?

He sits up and twirls his pencil. Maybe… maybe Pretty Boy was new? He shakes his head (which is something that attracts some stares from other students; he must look freaking crazy to them) it’s a possibility but not a likely one. He and Hunk looked kinda close behind the counter. And he was a natural at talking to customers - he made it seem so easy.

Did they not give Pretty Boy a name tag? Keith snorts. Actually, wait, that’s sort of stupid. Why wouldn’t Pretty Boy get a name tag if he was working there anyway?

Keith spends the rest of the lesson (desperately) trying to convince himself that his thoughts wandered to the coffee shop only because the class was too boring.

 

* * *

 

 

The next time Keith visits Defenders of Coffee, Pretty Boy is there again.

“Hey, what would you— Oh! Mullet Boy!” Pretty Boy smiles.

Keith looks at him in surprise, “You remember- wait I’m Mullet Boy?”

“Um—shit forget I said that,” his eyes go wide before he clears his throat a little too loudly, “what would you like to order?”

“A medium-sized hot chocolate.”

“Same thing, eh?” Pretty Boy punches a few keys in the register, “$3.50 please.”

Keith places the money on the counter and grumbles, “It’s nice.”

Pretty Boy laughs, everything about it gentle and bubbly, something that makes Keith’s heart soar. “I’m glad you like it.”

He should have just left it as that, should have just walked over to the collection point, but he doesn’t. Instead, the words are tumbling out of his mouth before he can register them.

“Where’s your name tag?”

 _Well shit_ , Keith thinks. Was it normal to try and make small talk with the boy he had a teeny tiny crush on? Was it even normal to start crushing on a boy he’s met _a grand total of two times?_ He’s very tempted to blurt out: ‘Hey, it’s okay forget what I said,’ exactly how Pretty Boy did just now.

“Huh?” Pretty Boy’s hands immediately fly to his apron, patting the spot which Keith guesses is where his name tag is supposed to be. “Crap, I left it at home!”

Keith mentally facepalms himself (he’s been doing that a lot lately). Of course. Why didn’t he think of that?

“Oh,” He swallows, “then, what’s... what’s your name?”

He supposes this is a sort of ‘expect the unexpected’ situation because the next thing he knows, Pretty Boy freaking winks and says, “Well then Mullet Boy, that’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

_Oh, it’s on._

 

* * *

 

 

Keith bangs his head against his table, desk light at the side flickering on and off signaling its battery drain, groaning so loud he’s sure the whole world could hear him.

“Just kill me already,” He murmurs, body already slumping over due to his overwhelming urge to _sleep_. His paintbrushes are scattered all over his desk, their tips stained with colours.

It isn’t long before he hears the click of his bedroom door, Shiro popping his head in.

“You okay?” Shiro’s got that _holy-shit-Keith-what-did-you-do_ kind of look, before sending a cursory glance at the clock. “Christ, it’s already 1am.”

“Art assignment. Due tomorrow.” He slurs, “ _Shit_ , I really shouldn’t have procrastinated. If someone could stab me right now, that would be really great, thanks.”

Shiro sighs at his brother’s self-deprecating humour, “Go to sleep once you’re done.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith waves a hand dismissively, noticing the smudges of paint on his palm. _Wow, he was a mess._ “You too.”

Shiro gives him a tired smile, “Physics exam tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll ace it like you always do.”

“Whatever you say,” Shiro snorts and closes the door, “I’m so screwed.”

Keith laughs under his breath. _Me too._

 

* * *

 

 

Keith is pretty sure he’s dead inside.

“One black coffee, please.” He says with no hesitation, which is pretty worrying in itself.

Pretty Boy raises an eyebrow, “Dude, you okay? You look like shit.”

Keith isn’t even taken aback by that comment.  “Finals,” He rasps out. “Huh, feel like shit too.”

He lugs his body sluggishly to the collection point, muttering a curt “thanks” to Hunk before venturing off to find a seat.

Setting his bag down, he rummages through it to plonk his art supplies onto the table. And that’s when Pretty Boy is suddenly sitting across him.

Keith is about to open his sketchbook when he pauses. “What’re you doing?” _God, does he have no filter?_

He shrugs, “It’s my shift break.”

Keith _should_ push him away. He should tell him to go spend his shift break with Hunk or something, because it’s the right thing to do. He shouldn’t let himself take advantage of Pretty Boy’s antics to indulge in more time with him. It’s the right thing to do, and the worst thing is that he _knows_ it’s the right thing to do, but he doesn’t shove Pretty Boy away, opting to just let him sit there. Angel Keith and Devil Keith are currently having an all-out war in his head.

“Woah—you take art?”

“ _No, I don’t take art_ ,” Keith snorts as if that was the funniest thing anyone had ever said to him. In his brain-dead state, it kind of was. “Dude, I literally have art materials scattered all over this table.”

Pretty Boy laughs, “Well aren’t you a sarcastic one.”

“My art exam is in, like, two days.” He attempts at small talk, taking a sip of his coffee, but the awkward atmosphere is enough the make him squirm uncomfortably in his seat. _This is exactly why I do not socialise._ Keith feels like crushing the paper cup in his hands.

“Wait wait wait stop talking holy shit, that is amazing.”

Keith is about to protest when suddenly, his sketchbook is swiped out of his hands as Pretty Boy flips through the pages. Normally, he would’ve immediately felt rage if his ‘baby’ was forcefully taken away from him, since the sketches decorating the pages were his and _his only._ But when Lance’s thousand-watt smile is literally blinding Keith as they sit there, the words die in Keith’s throat.

“Oh my god, all of these look so real!” He exclaims in awe.

Keith feels his cheeks heat up against his own will. He isn’t used to people praising his art, especially when they're as bad as he believes them to be.

“They...they aren’t _that_ good.”

Pretty Boy looks at him in disbelief, “Are you serious? These should be put up in a museum or something!”

Keith is sure he’s gonna die of embarrassment, right here and right now. “Thanks,” he says, so soft he thinks Pretty Boy missed it.

Pretty Boy doesn’t miss it,“Man, you sure are cute when you’re embarrassed.”

Both of them freeze. Pretty Boy’s eyes widen at the words that linger in the air, Keith stops twirling his pencil around his finger.

“I- uh, I’m gonna get back to work.” The chair scrapes against the floor as Pretty Boy stands up.

Keith coughs awkwardly, “Yeah, I’m gonna uh, get back to my art prep.” With this conversation, he’s felt more alive than he has in days, but he’s now hyper-aware of his thumping heart.

They don’t talk even when he leaves.

* * *

  

“Just go up to him and….talk.” Pidge looks at him dead in the eye, munching on some crisps. She lay sprawled across his bed, staring up at his ceiling. Space posters are plastered all over his grey walls, complementing the auburn fairy lights hanging from his ceiling. Hey, he thinks the lights are calming, okay, don't judge. 

“Pidge, you make it sound so easy,” He sits cross-legged on his bed. Keith sighs and flips through his notes with one hand while the other one held a grilled cheese sandwich. Man, did he love those. 

She narrows her eyes, “What’s stopping you though?”

“We had a super awkward conversation yesterday,” Taking a bite out of his sandwich, Keith cringes outwardly as he recalls the previous day’s events. “He said my art was nice.”

“Isn’t that good?” She tilts her head to the side in confusion, not understanding the problem. 

“He called me cute afterwards.”

Silence.

Then Pidge bursts out laughing.

“This is comedy gold,” She wheezes.

“ _Shut up._ I’m literally dying over here.”

“No, you don’t understand,” She says, shaking her bag of crisps, “this.. this is more cliche than some romantic movies out there. Wow Keith, since when did your life become a movie, huh?”

Keith pouts, “But I’m not in love with him.”

“Now, now Keith. Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.”

He _groans._

 

* * *

 

 

“So, you have a crush on him,” Shiro concludes.

They’re both sitting on Keith’s bed, Keith already lying down resting his head on the pillow, Shiro sitting at the edge of the bed. Keith thinks this vaguely looks like a counseling session. It might as well be one, considering the situation he's in.

Keith tangles his fingers in his hair, “I don’t.”

“Sorry kiddo, but I’m pretty sure you do.”

“Shiro, for the love of god, not you too. I don’t even know his name for crying out loud.”

“When was the last time you were this hung up about someone?” Shiro pauses, waiting for Keith to answer. When he doesn’t get one, he continues. “Exactly. Never.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It means you’ve got the hots for him, Keith. Problem solved. Case closed. All hail the almighty Shiro.”

Keith smacks him with a pillow, “You are so annoying.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s almost three days later when Keith steps foot into the coffeeshop. His finals are over (thank god), but he’s brought his sketchbook with him, just because.

“Hey, one caramel macchiato, please.”

And Pretty Boy is staring right back at him, with that signature grin on his face.

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows, and Keith’s heart _flips_ , because is it even legal for someone to look that perfect? “Trying something fancy today, huh?”

“There’s nothing wrong with trying new things.”

Pretty Boy raises his hands in mock surrender. “I never said it was wrong.”

Keith's eyes go wide.

“Hey Lance! I think we need to restock on the sugar! Oh, and don’t forget the milk too!” comes a voice from the storage room.

_Lance._

_His name is Lance. And for some reason, it fits so well._

“Goddammit, Hunk!” Lance whines.

“Wha-? Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t know he was there!”

Keith is amused, to say the least. So Lance told Hunk about this thing going on between them, was Keith considered important to Lance?

Lance sighs, “Ah, caught red-handed now.”

“Why were you so uptight about me not knowing your name?”

“It’s just..” Lance sighs, “I thought if there was something you didn’t know..you would keep coming back for more.”

Shades of pink bloom across Keith’s cheeks. _He wanted me to keep coming back? He wanted to see me?_ And there are a million other thoughts zipping through his head that he feels like he's going to combust.

“If you were ground coffee, you’d be Espresso cause you’re so fine.”

Keith wants to smack himself a hundred times. He knew he was considered impulsive, but _Jesus._

That did not just come out of his mouth.

“Already flirting are we, Mullet Boy?” Lance lets out a chuckle.

“I…”

“Tell ya what, I get off my shift at around 5.30? You wanna come back here and..and I’ll take you out for dinner?”

When Lance whisks away to make Keith’s drink, coming back with the paper cup adorned with hearts scribbled in permanent marker, Keith lets a soft “Sure thing,” slip past his lips, and he’s never been happier in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> phew i've had this fic sitting in my google docs for at least 4 months now omg i'm so glad i finally finished it but i apologise for the Shitty writing !! voltron has actually taken over my life now and it's not funny
> 
> \- i actually really wanted to include allura and coran in this but i didn't know how to squeeze them in :-(( besides i would rather let them come in naturally rather than squeezing them in just for the sake of adding them in ya feel  
> \- shiro is in a diff uni from keith  
> \- i might write lance's pov to this sometime in the future BECAUSE I LOVE HIM WITH ALL MY HEART  
> \- that is all . if u wanna scream at me about vld, hmu i am @dorktobio on twitter


End file.
